


Alluring Warlord

by Si1verEye



Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ambiguous Relationships, Assassins & Hitmen, Backstory, Boss/Employee Relationship, Drama, Emotional Manipulation, Female Protagonist, Gen, Organized Crime, POV Female Character, Past Abuse, Russian Mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-24 08:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9713510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Si1verEye/pseuds/Si1verEye
Summary: She was younger, yet no more innocent. She killed, but still had too much morality. When came the time to enter the Janus Syndicate, she was reluctant. The man facing her had two faces; one shady and disturbing, the other well-mannered and inviting. Would she take the full win by siding him, or only dance with the devil? (Originally published on fanfiction.net)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> Hello readers! I know this is something a little out of the ordinary, but I guess publishing it should be better than keeping it for me.
> 
> As I hadn't any idea how to start chapter 22 I started to write this for a beta reader (he'll recognize himself...), and unlike the whole lot of unfinished one shots swanning around my hard drive this one actually fleshed out pretty well - after all, the first drafts for Kaiko/Silver's backstory date back to eight years ago. The thing is, I don't even know when I'll come to talk about it in the main fic and it is way too long to be a regular chapter (I don't want to 'overshadow' the shortest ones). So here you are, consider it a gift.
> 
> For those who come across this and aren't familiar with 'Missing Connection' and my OCs... well first, hi there! Then here are some clues about who is who;  
> \- Jessi = Jessika Irineyevna Pajari; a blonde Russian girl of 20.  
> \- Kaiko = Kaiko Morikawa; a French-Japanese girl of 22.  
> \- Janus = well... go watch the movie 'GoldenEye' immediately!  
> Lastly, this one shot takes place six years before the events of Missing Connection.
> 
> I hope you'll like this - I find it a shame that there are so few fics about Janus (I mean, Janus, not 006!). It's always a pleasure to play around with him, anyway.  
> Now, enjoy your reading ;)
> 
> Warning:  
> Spoilers on Missing Connection (deeply sorry for it you're upset by such things)

_> Missing Connection  >>>>> Stand-alone >>>>>_

_ >>>>> Alluring Warlord_

Up to there, the last contract seemed just like all the previous ones; someone to kill with utmost discretion. The only added difficulty came from the target being closely monitored by bodyguards 24/7, and that was why it had been necessary to carry it out in plain sight.

Upon reflection, their best opportunity was the upcoming reception the target attended. One of Janus' contacts happening to be invited, Jessi was passed off as his twenty-year-old daughter, so she could melt into the crowd and watch out for the target ordering a drink. Kaiko, carefully made-up to look older despite her protests, was assigned as for her to pose as a bartender owing to her previous knowledge about the job.

Poisoning had rapidly imposed itself as the method of execution, but it had to be slow enough to permit the two young women to shove off without anyone getting suspicious. As a consequence, the small vial she hid under her sleeve was filled with aconite – courtesy of Janus, _of course_.

As soon as Jessi made the agreed code signal, the vial was furtively emptied into the ordered Caipiroska. The Russian girl could casually walk out while the half-Asian gave a fictional smoke break as a pretext to do the same. Within one hour and a half, the target was reported ill. Two more hours later, he was already out of his misery.

The two of them then made their way back to the Tretyak headquarters – a block of the Moskovsky district that was to be replaced by a brand new tower in the next two years –, to take a seat in the _director_ 's office. It was less than a year and a half since they first stepped in, but they knew the place quite well now, as well as what was to be expected. Certainly the equivalent of two thousand bucks for each of them… a little more if the job was considered as particularly well done.

When they saw a small aluminum case placed in front of them, neither showed any emotion as not getting what it meant. But when they saw what was inside, their reaction was completely different.

Jessi was the first to reach for one of the wads it contained. She slowly flipped through the hundred of 500-ruble banknotes, remaining as silent as her half-Asian friend.

"I figured you'd love to know how so much paper felt in your hands."

On the other side of the desk was Janus, a satisfied look on his face. If this was an attempt at surprising them, it was a sheer success; judging by the number of bundles in the case, there was easily a million rubles on the table.

"Excuse me sir, but… how much is it in dollars?", Kaiko shyly ventured.

He thought for a moment, betraying a great experience of his with currency conversion.

"A little more than thirty thousand, I'd say."

"С ума сойти." (S uma soyti., _That's crazy._ ), Jessi whispered, fiddling with the cash in her hands as though unsure whether it was real or not.

"Не так ли?" (Ne tak li?, _Isn't it?_ ), he affirmed with a smile. "Now I hope you won't let anybody claim that I don't know how to reward outstanding work."

The friends turned to each other at once. _'Outstanding'_? Wasn't it meant as a regular hit?

"Funny little birds, you two are." He gave an amused laughter. "That's perfect work of art you made here. All smoothly done, not even a single hitch in the whole operation."

"A _hitch_?", Jessi repeated, making visible she didn't understand the expression.

"Без сучка и задоринки." (Bez suchka i zadorinki., _Without a hitch_.), he translated for her.

"О, спасибо." (O, spasibo., _Thanks_.)

"Anyway, where I do take my hat off is when it comes to who you dealt with.", he continued after having given another smile to the blond girl. "Time to come clean about it I guess… you've just got rid of a FSB official under everyone's nose."

Both their minds were thoroughly blown by that single line. By the time of the first jobs they did for the Syndicate, they were nothing; two girls barely come of age, roaming the streets of Saint Petersburg in search of something to eat and somewhere to sleep. Although they had come a long way since then, eliminating a high-ranking intelligence guy still was beyond imagination… not so long ago, they'd have been tasked with no more than disposing of the body.

" _FSB_ …?!", Kaiko stuttered, separating each letter.

"I wanted to see how you'd hold up to it… I've been everything but disappointed."

Her eye caught by the figure of Peter the Great featured on the notes, the half-Asian finally grasped a wad too. She didn't know what to think about all this; while he seemed to trust them she found weird that he sent rookies for the job. What if they had failed? It would take her some years to understand it actually wouldn't have changed things much. Their youth and inexperience prevented them to be taken too seriously by outsiders, and he knew how to use this to his advantage – not to mention the fact they were all the more easily expendable.

"So that means… we're effective members now?", Jessi asked after a lapse of silence.

He rested an elbow on the armrest of his chair to hold his flattened hand up.

"You've proved yourselves enough for it, yes. Are you in?"

"I am."

At the firm tone the Russian girl used to assert it, he gave her a supporting nod.

"Good." His glance shifted to Kaiko. "What about you?"

The half-Asian wanted to answer something, and his look gave away he noticed she had suddenly refrained from it. She still had difficulty to talk to him with her full self-confidence, being easily intimidated by the air of power that surrounded him – which explained why _business negotiations_ often fell to Jessi. It wasn't just that, though. Accepting meant becoming a full-fledged hired killer, a quite unsettling perspective to her. Even though she had already killed for money, she never asked for making it an occupation.

"I'm sorry, but… I can't give an answer yet.", she ended up letting out, unable to resist the piercing, bluish green eyes facing her.

In this rare instance she felt genuine surprise in the said eyes. It resulted in an instinctive huddle of hers on her chair, her arms wrapped together and her legs kept in. Seeing this, Jessi immediately put an arm around her friend's shoulders, with _'В чём дело, сестричка?'_ ( _V chyom delo, sestrichka?_ , What's wrong sis?) written all over her face. The latter didn't say anything, only repeating to herself; _'Too far… this is going way too far.'_

"In that case take all the time necessary.", Janus stated. "We can discuss it alone, if you need to."

"I… I'll think it over."

Seeing the conciliatory attitude he took Kaiko loosened up a bit, but not fully. If Jessi was ready to be at his service, perhaps she needn't back away like she did; yet it didn't change anything that went with it, while the blond girl didn't have quite the same history with mobsters as her. Before turning the tide for either side, she had to know the man better… and face-to-face talking was an unavoidable step towards it.

 

To that purpose, she paid him another visit the next day – as opposed to the several weeks that usually passed between two contracts. Because of a too tight schedule he couldn't see her right away, so he grabbed a pen to write down an address, saying he should be there by 6 PM. _'_ _Улица_ _Рубинштейна, д. 5'_ ( _Ulitsa Rubinshteyna, d. 5_ , 5 Rubinstein Street)

Going along Nevsky Prospect, the city's main avenue, she had a smile when looking again at the piece of paper he gave her. Knowing her Russian was still very poor at the time, he had written in capitals so she could recognize the name on street signs. He had some nice handwriting, incidentally; his Cyrillic letters were sharp and, contrary to what she often came across, rather well-formed.

Rubinstein Street happened to be the first lane on the right after crossing the Fontanka river. As it was part of the historic Tsentralny district, buildings around were all of the characteristic neoclassical style and relatively well maintained. The street itself was just enough lively, with various shops and restaurants adding to the uptown atmosphere. In other terms, it was a long way from the kind of the skid row areas she was accustomed to living in.

She quickly reached number five, which she identified thanks to the sign of a mini-hotel Janus told her about. The front door didn't look so special, however she found the cut stone facade and the delicate carved curlicues very pretty. After entering the door code she had also been provided she headed to the central marble stairs lying before her, to go up until the third floor.

Once at destination, she didn't move straight towards any of the two doors that could be seen there. She instead looked around, and it was only after some time that she found what she was looking for. Security cameras were concealed in the setting, as proved by the one she noticed under a sconce – cleverly made almost invisible by the lighting. Probably that like she suspected this actually was his pad, which increased both her interest and apprehension about what she'd find inside.

Judging by the high security lock, the closest door to the hidden camera was most likely to be armored. No wonder it was the right one. Ringing the bell instantly gave her a nervous belly ache; she tried to calm down by taking deep breaths, but couldn't help fidgeting as she stood.

At one point, she was startled when hearing the door open behind her. She slowly turned to the newcomer; Janus himself. He had a sly smile, saying after a look to his watch;

"A bit late, aren't we my dear?"

"There were disturbances on the metro.", she apologized.

Not immediately getting he was playing with the pedestal he knew she put him on, his chuckle at it surprised her. Without further delay he stepped aside, holding out an arm to invite her inside.

"Come in."

She prudently complied as though she feared to do something wrong, to be left speechless within the following seconds.

The place was nothing like what she ever could have expected; first thing that got her focus was the elaborate gilt moldings on and around the stucco ceiling, from which her gaze traveled to the white, smooth Corinthian column on her right. Under was a beautifully inlaid marble floor, and around was what she took to be original nineteenth century decoration – notably hand carved upholstered chairs, a bronze candle holder statue and canvas paintings. Not too much flourish, and picture perfect.

"Is this yours?", she eventually asked.

He had drawn closer to her after closing the door, his hands behind his back.

"I own a few other properties, but this the one my guests generally prefer."

"I can figure why."

"Well, I'm glad you like it.", he thanked her with a kind smile. "Here, these should be your size."

In typical Russian custom he was showing a pair of mules, that had purposely been placed just next to the entry door. Taking her worn-out sneakers off, she realized it was the first time she saw him not as strictly dressed as usual. While he managed to look just as elegant in slippers – plain black velvet house shoes –, he wore neither double breasted jacket nor tie, and the collar of his anthracite shirt was open.

It lead to a gasp of hers when glancing at his right profile, as it revealed that side of his neck to be as heavily burnt as the cheek above.

"Ah, I know.", he said, rubbing it with his hand to shield it from her eyes. "That's not always easy to live with."

Moving to the door next to the earlier column, he nodded her to follow. Doing so she entered another fine plaster-walled room with golden highlights; this time a living room brightly illuminated by three draped, arched windows. Other than the furniture, its distinctive feature was, hands down, the parquet floor. The interlace border and stylized floral medallion were absolutely stunning, even more so with the recent waxing.

"Take any seat you like."

Her subsequent choice was of a gray soft tufted armchair; very comfortable and turned towards the windows. Rather than sitting down too, he only laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Would you like strong or weak tea?"

"If it involves… what's it called… заварка (zavarka, _tea concentrate_ ), then weak should be fine.", she answered, lifting her look to his.

During the short while he was away, she leant back to settle better into her seat and watched around. Her immediate find was a book that laid on the low table in front of her; many bookmarks could be seen sticking out from it, an indisputable proof that it was some _bible_ of his. Briefly bending forward she grabbed it, soon discovering it to be an English edition of _The Art of War_. An ancient Chinese military treatise… somehow it was perfectly consistent with his usual demeanor – much like that of an officer.

_If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle._

Absorbed by the reading of random pages, she didn't notice he had come back until hearing the thinly veiled hint of sarcasm in his ensuing remark;

"Do I detect a fellow reader of Sun Tzu?"

As he held his hand out to retrieve it, she softly closed the book and gave it back to him with both her hands. Perhaps a little too formal, but some of her Japanese manners died hard; she did the same when accepting one of the two cups he brought.

"I'd probably be if my mother had him on her bookshelf.", she quietly stated, before designating the drink. "Thanks."

His answer was a simple nod, while he was busy putting the book on a small marble-topped table in the background. As expected the cup contained Russian-style black tea, the most obvious evidence of it being the slice of lemon floating on the top. The liquid wasn't too dark, still she added a sugar cube to prevent any bitterness of taste.

"Who would she have had, then?", he asked again.

He had finally sat on the sofa on her right, which unsurprisingly was also the central one. Doing so he pulled up his pant legs by the thigh parts, a gesture she long thought to be a trademark habit of Sonny Crockett's. The man being very unlikely to be an avid viewer of Miami Vice like her and Jessi at the time, she hence reconsidered it as a common way to make dress pants more comfortable… at least she learnt something new.

"Some other nice people. Most were French, but there notably was Niccolò Machiavelli among them.", she answered as soon as he was settled in.

"Your mother must be a woman of great taste." Considering the smirk he gave at the name, _The Prince_ had to be another of his go-to books. "What kind of business was she in?"

She didn't reply immediately, unsure whether telling him things so personal. Her mother had nothing to do with what she was here for, neither with all she went through to find herself in that very seat. _'Why doesn't he get to the point?'_ , she wondered, yet knowing all too well she'd never say that to his face. Besides, too much defensiveness wouldn't help to solve the main issue she came here to talk about.

"Interpreting.", she let out, taking courage in the close attention he was giving her. "Between French and Japanese."

"And your father?"

"Software engineering."

"An interpreter and a software engineer. Normal people, beyond reproach.", he said before a brief pause, as if to ponder his next words. "Tell me, was everything fine money-wise?"

"We lived well."

Her too little assertiveness betrayed her right away, as made clear by the disbelieving glance he shot her – a reminder that it would take much more to fool someone of his caliber. On the other hand, laying things out straight meant she had to be ready to uncover the skeletons she had in her closet. Her safest way out was to tell him the truth, but up to a certain point; with a little luck the topic would shift before getting on the much-feared slippery slope.

"As he earned the highest salary my father did everything possible to ensure our comfort, even knowing that doing so in the Lost Decade was a losing battle. At the time, many ended up debt-ridden; my family was no exception.", she explained after a calming sip of tea.

"The _'Lost Decade'_ … you must mean the 1990s Japanese recession."

He knew well his history, point taken. It could just be what she needed to hijack the conversation… now she had to find out how to use it. Giving an affirmative nod, she continued;

"To get back on its feet in such context, the best idea my father's company found was to stake everything on the Internet revolution and heavily focus on network providing, as far as changing name from _Shinkaichi Digital Co_. to _S. D. Networks_."

Once again, she didn't have to expand any longer. He had already understood that the fatal blow could have only been struck on the eve of the third millennium.

"Never heard of the company, but I'd bet on the dot-com bubble finishing it off."

"And your bet would pay off at a hundred to one.", she acknowledged with a faint sigh. "Nobody expected it, but one thing soon became clear; people like my father were no longer welcome. The company was dissolved in the two months following the bubble's burst."

The immediate consequence of this was that her father never found any stable occupation afterwards because of Japan's lifetime employment system, while her mother couldn't count on regular wages because of her non salaried job. It was at this moment things started to go down the drain… the reason wasn't too hard to figure out.

"So your family plunged even deeper into debt."

"To make matters even worse, the creditor started at once to harass my parents to get payment, which revealed him to be a闇金 (yamikin)… I don't know how to translate that. It's… someone who lends money illegally."

"A loan shark?", he proposed.

"I… think that's the idea."

She hesitated for a second; he was getting too close too fast to the bottom of the story, not leaving her much leeway to shirk.

"One day, my mother got sick of this, so she convinced my father to sue the… _loan shark_. Good thing is, they eventually won the case."

The conclusion was ready-made; all was well that ended well, and normal life resumed its course after a couple last bumps along the way. _Easy,_ all that remained was to assert it with her full conviction.

"With that look on your face I'm afraid it wasn't such good news though.", he noted.

Her attempt at a reply stuck into her throat – _checkmate_. She had put her back up against the wall as though she wanted so badly that he delivered the final shot. Indeed, winning the case had been everything but good news. It trapped her in a grim world far away from everything she knew, taking all her loved ones and any possible innocence. It even explained why she refused to become a contract killer while already being one in _all_ but name.

At that last thought she finally gave way and burst into silent tears. But despite her resounding defeat at this verbal game, she desperately tried to cling  to her little remaining pride. How come would she have survived so far if it took so little to bring her to her knees? She was stronger than that, _goddammit!_

"I shouldn't have told you all this.", she yet whispered, the impulse stronger than all reasoning.

She only realized his seat was empty when lifting her muddled eyes from her hands. Though it didn't take her long to figure out where he went, as she soon heard close to her ear;

"If you did, then it had to come out one way or another."

He had bent down at her level, crossing his arms on the back of the armchair so he could place a hand on her shoulder to stop her impulsive move forward and keep her seated. She slowly turned her gaze on him, her pulse having significantly increased meanwhile.

"Hold on my dear, we don't have far left to go before reaching common ground. It would be a shame to let fear throw it all away, don't you think?"

 _'So he has noticed.'_ , she thought while swallowing. At least she could ask the question that jumped out without going in for subtlety.

"Is this fear based?"

"Even supposing it is, I don't think it has anything to do with me."

Actually he had a good point there. Her only issue with him so far was to have had more than her fair share of being around people of the same kind; it didn't necessarily mean he'd treat her the _same_ _way_.

Without waiting for any reply of hers, his free hand captured her left wrist. Her fingers twisted with tension, but he didn't pay them any particular attention; instead he delicately pulled her sleeve up. _'How would he know…?'_

"There's this strange tic of yours; you often rub your wrist as though wanting to wipe this beautiful Koi fish off. I've always had a doubt as to the reason, but now I haven't anymore.", he said, eventually loosening his grip. "The loan shark certainly had links with the local gangs – is _yakuza_ the proper term?" She gave a slight nod. "I never dealt with these people, however I do know they don't enjoy the same impunity they once had. They must have sought revenge on your family after the trial… I personally suspect something like a violent death. Am I right so far?"

"How'd you link this to the Koi?"

"Women unwillingly branded with tattoos aren't that uncommon. Designs are more or less noticeable, but always bear the same meaning." Again he had to restrain her shoulder as the following came up; "Forced prostitution."

Not a single sound came from her. She felt completely exposed, but couldn't deny the truth, however _painful_ it was. He was right, _overly_ right; he hadn't even minced his words, as though knowing he would hit the mark with that very expression. Wherever he was going with this, it was too late to step back… all was out of her hands now.

In a brisk move she dried her tears, her eyes almost apathetic and her speech quick and curt;

"They raided our home one day, without notice. I was preparing for a baseball practice while pestering my brother as he did homework. We heard the bell ringing, then my mother grumbling in the distance as it interrupted what she was doing. And then all was silent. We went see what was happening, to find everybody in the living room. Both my parents kneeling, a gun to their heads; and five men dressed in black. Their boss briefly spoke; in substance they were here to avenge the loan shark, and in a single snap of his all my family was shot. All but _me_. I didn't understand. The boss said he wanted me to wipe away the debts my parents still had in death. I was so terrified that I wouldn't even have thought of running away. I think you get the picture of what happened next."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"When did you escape?"

"About a year and a half later. I was lucky I guess. I stripped a customer of his wallet and coat while he was too wasted to wake up, then scurried away. The Koi means I was one of the girls sold to foreign partners months before, so I hadn't a single idea of where I was at the time. The first train I got on took me here… in Saint Petersburg."

Actually, the gang members took a mean delight in systematically pretending they didn't understand each time she asked where the hell she was – let alone the various insults, nicknames and mistreatments she had been saddled with the whole time. If there were things she would _kill_ for, never being pulled back into the clutches of such people was one of them.

"Please, don't tell anyone.", she suddenly begged, grabbing his hand.

"This is not like me."

His reassuring smile as he stood up was convincing enough to do her some good. She took it as a proof of his reliability – something terribly rare, yet utterly vital in a world like this.

"I am deeply sorry for inflicting you this.", he said while getting back to his seat. "But at least things will be a lot easier now."

"What are you getting at, anyway?"

As she raised her eyebrows he sat up straight and joined his hands, looking very – if not _troublingly –_ sure of himself.

"Do you seek revenge?", he asked back.

" _'Seek'_ is too soft a word."

"Do you think you can take it right now?"

Despite everything she would have convinced herself of since she ran away, the answer came out no frills.

"No."

"Why?"

"They would wreck me before I'd have the slightest chance to off them all.", she stated with bitter lucidity.

"Well, nothing that proper training can't work out."

Both this last line and the smirk that accompanied it made her understand at once how the whole talk had been deftly steered. The earlier _'common ground'_ , as he put it, was nothing of a shot in the dark; he hadn't only aimed for getting her to talk about her most unmentionable secrets, but finding out how to legitimize her entry into the Syndicate.

 _Yes_ , she wanted to avenge her parents more than anything else, but spilling the blood of people completely unrelated to the ones responsible _couldn't_ be a valid option. He might be right to point out that she was very far from getting her way, yet she refused to allow it as an excuse for dragging herself down to those bastards' level.

"Becoming an assassin doesn't cut it for me.", she dryly replied.

Although she had naively thought this was enough to undermine his rhetoric, his grin widened even more. He perfectly knew who he was and what kind of business he was running, just as well as he wasn't afraid to call a spade a spade. Yet such composure somehow made him look _trustworthy_ , particularly as he wasn't getting it all wrong;

"For some offenses, there is only retribution; don't you think?", he quietly asked, to be met by no answer. "To make yourself heard by _them_ , you'll have to get your hands dirty – if you think everything will be nice and easy you'll remain an easy prey. I believe you are smart enough to understand this."

Her hands were _already_ dirty, that ate her up more than she made out. Up to there he didn't even have to carefully ponder his arguments to appeal to her heart, but to put cash at stake. Besides, if she deprived herself of his support she'd have nowhere to go. There were people after her, she didn't know the country well enough, and no way she lived off Jessi to survive.

Unlike her the Russian girl didn't make a fuss about it; she was already in and ready for action. A no-nonsense approach that seemed much more _appropriate_.

"I am.", the half-Asian reluctantly admitted.

"This is one tough decision to make, I'll give you that. No less crucial though."

"Doesn't quite sound like an actual choice to me.", she stated, lowering her eyes.

"It does. Believe me when I say that you are in complete control of the situation here."

That was easy for him to say. Even supposing she really was, it came down to choosing the lesser of two evils – _'kill, or be killed.'_

"If you say so..." She rubbed her temples with the tip of her thumbs. "I'm too mixed up to really sort things out, but as for now I can't see a better alternative than trusting you on this."

"So, are you in?"

As he extended his hand to her, she gave a sad shrug. He wanted a clear answer, as though already knowing there was little chance she'd reverse her decision. Perhaps was she too easily influenced, but there were some implicit rules to the underworld. Among them were potential _unforeseen_ _consequences_ if she declined his offer, hence better to play it safe.

On the other hand, he seemed to be on the level and the pay was decent. She now could even afford the removal of the Koi, which would be a big step towards going off the radars... these considerations altogether ended up winning her over.

"I guess so.", she answered, shaking it.

"In that case… welcome to the party, my dear."

***

 _"_ _Hold… our… hands…_  
_Dear leaders…_  
_Show… the… way…_  
_We need it…_

 _Follow me…_  
_And fear me…_  
_And love me…_  
_And fear me…"_

(Perturbator, "Souls at Zero")


End file.
